


familiarity is a habit hard to lose

by kobattsun



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Yamamura san soba is best soba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 07:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15481221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kobattsun/pseuds/kobattsun
Summary: It turns into a small habit for Nikaido Yamato: ordering takeaway every Friday night, leaving the delivery man to work hard and cultivate his love for soba, while he avoids any form of physical activity by burying himself under the kotatsu.(A story about sharing habits, small domestic gestures, and how Nikaido Yamato had to watch his kids take off and leave the nest – while he learned how to do the same.)





	familiarity is a habit hard to lose

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know how to write NdA but im trying my best, because i love these two dorks too much to have a dignity too  
> also, i wanna thank @nishanightray who did a wonderful and patient job as beta reader

The keys’ metallic clinking echoes in the apartment’s doorway, breaking the silence usually found at that late hour.

Yamato takes the keys out of the lock and, as he goes inside, he looks for the light switch in the darkness, guided only by the dim light that comes from the street lamps on the other side of the road and touches his hallway. He lays down his bag and jacket, still in silence, drags his feet to the living room and, finally, lets himself fall facedown on the couch, sighing happily as he hears his own shoes landing a few feet away after being lazily tossed.

The clock reads almost 1 a.m. and he thanks God for not having any work scheduled on the next morning, because he’s not sure how he could manage the strength to get out of the bed, have breakfast and go to work safe and sound.

This is one of the cons of building an attachment, Yamato thinks as he drifts off to sleep. He is now a 29-year-old adult that has to learn how to live on his own again. Those six have spoiled him too much by waking him up in the morning with a frying pan, or with the excuse of having to make the bento, no matter how much he would complain and grumble in his pillow, all curled up in search of warmth.

Yamato can’t find a reason to make a _bento_ for himself: without anyone to look after, he really is an useless adult.

 

 

 

Anyway, having your own flat also has its pros, sometimes. For someone like Yamato, who’s so jealous of his freedom and personal space, it’s certainly less stressful not having to constantly share his time and space with others, rather than bickering twenty-four hours a day.

Tamaki always protests, outraged every time Yamato says it, and argues that ‘ _It’s not like that!’_ , while Mitsuki sighs and Nagi shakes his head, looking at him accusingly and apologetically at the same time, as though Yamato’s being submitted to the Inquisition Tribunal’s judgment.

"Anyway, you were the one who always stole my pudding from the fridge, Yama-san! Don’t  pretend you don’t remember!"

Then Riku shows up and looks at him with his big, round eyes, like an abandoned puppy; sadness shows so clearly on his face that it sticks to you, it marks you like permanent ink, still humid on your skin.

"Yamato-san... Do you really think that?"

And that's how his dignity tumbles with a great roar, shattered by guilt, and buries him. He’s sure he can’t take that guilt to the grave.

"...no, of course not. Of course I miss you guys."

He watches as Riku's gaze, hidden under his bangs, lights up, melts and softens - as if he always knew that Yamato wasn't serious, and he was just waiting for him to admit it out loud. Honestly, it has always been like that with their center: he exposes your weaknesses so easily that it’s disarming, simply because he's a beautiful person and makes you better too.

Although seven years have passed, this hasn't changed at all.

"I miss you too, Yamato-san. I miss you all," Riku says, smiling and shrugging as he tilts his head a bit. "I'm really happy every time we're all together."

Although they have all grown up, none of them has really changed.

 

 

 

Every day Musashi diligently keeps the flat clean by moving slowly from one room to another.

It keeps cleaning while Yamato makes breakfast and tries not to fall asleep face down in the pan, while he looks for something clean in the closet and while he wears shoes at the entrance, before greeting the cleaning robot and wishing it a good day.

Musashi greets him in his own way and watches him even as Yamato turns it off, knowing that his flat is in good hands.

 

 

 

Friday night is the best time of the week.

Once he gets off work, he finds a certain pleasure in returning home and quietly slipping under the _kotatsu,_ like a hand inside a glove on a cold winter afternoon.

He could never give up on the _kotatsu_ , despite the fact that he has little furniture. He has never been the type to worry too much about things like building something that lasts – a permanent nest–, but obviously those six have softened him over the years. They have made him as soft as the butter that Mitsuki puts into the cakes he bakes for them during holidays.

Yamato cannot even regret the habits and tenderness they have exchanged. At times, while he's shopping, he finds himself wondering: ‘ _Ah, would Sou like this cup?’_ , or ‘ _Does Ichi need new notebooks?’_ , but then he collects himself and sighs as he thinks that it’s probably just his maternal instinct showing up again.

Yamato is good at taking care of others and their needs, so it is quite ironic to realize that he is, on the contrary, completely incapable of taking care of himself. Two hours later, he has yet to go to the kitchen to make dinner, and he suddenly realize that there is nothing already made in the fridge.

The thought of having pots to wash later destroys any will to cook, so he does the only thing he can do in a such a situation: he orders takeaway.

He picks up the phone and dials the number, then sits down on the sofa wrapped in a plaid, curled up as he waits for the delivery, which comes about half an hour later.

"Yamamura soba shop, thank you for your order."

The man offers the food to him, as polite as usual, then frowns slightly. "Ah... Idolish7's Nikaido Yamato? What a coincidence."

Yamato looks at him, vaguely confused, but doesn't reply, too busy trying to mentally count the coins.

"Please, be careful. It's still hot."

"Huh, thank you."

Yamato closes the door, returns to the kitchen and finally decides to eat. It takes him about fifteen minutes to blow on the hot _soba_ , put the dishes in the sink and then sit in front of the television.

Only when he goes to bed, at last, he realizes that he has typed the Yamamura shop’s  number unconsciously even though he no longer lives in the dorms.

 

 

 

It turns into a small habit for Nikaido Yamato – ordering takeaway every Friday night and leaving the delivery man to work hard and cultivate his love for _soba_ while he avoids any form of physical activity by burying himself under the _kotatsu_.

The weekend is generally quiet – unless there are deadlines or issues such as filming a new drama or movie he's working on –, so he can forget all his worries and take it easy.

When the doorbell rings, it's always him: the _soba_ delivery man that looks so much like Yaotome Gaku, but absolutely isn’t Yaotome Gaku.

"Yamamura soba shop, thank you for your order."

"Ah, thanks for the delivery."

He takes the money, this time he’s already all set. "This is it," he says, "I always take the usual, so by now I know how much I spend."

"Oh, thank you..." The man scratches his head, looking thoughtful. "Listen… Speaking of it, I appreciate—huh, we really appreciate your loyalty to the shop, but maybe you'd rather order somewhere else…?" Probably noticing the confusion on Yamato’s face, he carries on, "You no longer live close to the shop, so your dinner’s likely to get cold... Especially when there's a lot of traffic, like tonight."

"Ah, right."

Yamato stays quiet for a moment, as though he's thinking very hard; actually, it’s just that he has no idea how to respond to that. Because it's true, there's no reason why he couldn't buy dinner from a shop nearby, yet for some reason the thought hasn't even crossed his mind.

"Right... I suppose it's just as you say, but... Somehow I got used to all of this... so..."

He doesn't even know what he wants to say. He suddenly feels like he’s making himself look like an idiot in front of that delivery man that looks so much like Yaotome Gaku, but is definitely not Yaotome Gaku.

Yamamura-san collects himself before Yamato does. He takes a step forward, making him jump like a cat startled by a sudden noise, with his tail nervously sticking up.

"Okay—! I'll do my best in order to always bring you the best, warmest _soba_ —! You don’t have to worry!"

He has a serious expression and Yamato reads some kind of sympathy in his eyes – as though he has understood something that he hasn't. Which makes him feel even more like an idiot.

However, considering that this man has just stated _that_ with such passion and pride, perhaps Yamato's not the one who should be ashamed.

"Huh... okay…?"

Yamamura-san looks satisfied at that and sighs, relaxing his shoulders and nodding to himself, as he takes back his delivery bag. "There's nothing better than _soba_ when the cold season approaches."

Yamato stands for a good five minutes on the door threshold, trying to understand what just happened.

 

 

 

Every time the rain starts falling without any warning, it’s a damn problem, because Yamato always notices it too late. When he runs to the balcony, the clothes are already wet.

He's sure that this wouldn’t happen if Mitsuki or Sougo were here, but they are not and he won't get any lecture from them – at most, he’ll get a cold.

 

 

 

Yamato is not stupid. Or at least, he probably is, in some ways, but his idiocy has its limit; despite having many flaws, he thinks he can be considered one of those people standing on the right side of the fence, for once.

Honestly, he isn't sure about how Yaotome can juggle so skillfully being the idol of the masses and a delivery man in disguise at the same time, or how he can make certain statements with such a convinced face – his gorgeous face.

It really takes some guts and, in a way, Yamato slightly, incredulously admires this side of his personality.

In the end, however, Yaotome is not a bad person at all. Despite a horrible first impression, Yamato could almost risk admitting he’s grown fond of him over time – he’s fond of everyone in Trigger and Re:vale. Even Zool are adorable, in their own way.

To be honest, Yaotome Gaku is really a good man, determined and loyal, self-confident -not because he likes to brag, but because he believes in himself and in those around him. He’s a good leader for Trigger and a good colleague even now that their groups have disbanded.

Yamato felt almost a little sorry for him when, a couple of years before, Yaotome was finally rejected by Tsumugi. She was more mortified and dismayed than him as she repeatedly bowed her head, perhaps trying to make him understand how sincere her displeasure was in not being able to return his feelings. Not that Yamato witnessed the scene himself; Yaotome, being the good idiot he is, told them the whole story during a drinking party. Luckily for him, Mitsuki, Sougo and Ryu were too drunk to grab even half of his depressed whining, despite actively participating on the emotional side, unlike him who was trying to decide whether or not to drown in his glass of beer. Meanwhile, Nagi listened, totally impassive, and Tenn stared at his feet, perhaps trying to pretend he didn’t know him.

After all, however, the relationship between him and Tsumugi now looks peaceful, free of the embarrassment of the beginning.

"They seem to get along," Yamato once tells Mitsuki as he watches them from behind the scenes, while taking a break from rehearsals for a group program. She is smiling brightly, clutching a bundle of documents to her chest as she speaks to him, and he has a soft, tender smile, interrupted just by some laughter from time to time.

A part of him wonders if Gaku really got over her.

"Well... It's been a while, you know. And they're both mature enough, I guess? "

“Are they both?” Nagi asks, sincerely doubtful. Despite the nudge he receives from the older Izumi, Yamato cannot help but think that it’s not a stupid question.

 

 

 

On Friday, it rains. Despite the bad weather forecast, Yamato didn't think it’d be that catastrophic, but it is, especially as the rain starts to worsen after ordering at the shop.

When Yamato opens the door, he finds that Yamamura seems to have just stepped out of an apocalyptic movie. This makes him feel a bit guilty.

"Ah... I'm sorry I made you come with this weather. If I had known it would have ended this way, I would have avoided to disturb..."

The other laughs, probably further amused by his disappointment, and then reassures him. "Don't worry. I still had other deliveries to do, and a little more rain certainly won't kill me,” he says, almost too proud, then tilts his head, presumably in the direction of his vehicle parked somewhere down the street. "And my motorbike also has a roof, see?"

_No, I don't_ , he’d like to say as he tries to lean out of the door with his head just enough to satisfy him.

"Do you still have many deliveries?"

He realizes that his words came out more worried than he wanted. If the other notices it, however, he doesn't point it out.

"Hmm, five or six right now... I should finish in a couple of hours anyway."

Yamamura-san – who is absolutely not Yaotome Gaku – puts the bag on his shoulder and rearranges his helmet. That's when Yamato stops him.

"Wait a minute here, I'll be right there."

The man looks at him puzzled, but obliges. Yamato still finds him there when, a couple of minutes later, he come back from his room with a package in his hand.

When Yamamura san – who is not Yaotome Gaku – takes it, he stares at it in confusion, probably unsure about what to do. "A… pudding?"

"Yes, a Pudding."

"…what? If you do not have enough money, it's not—"

"It's a rain cape," Yamato interrupts him dryly. "Idiot," then escapes his mouth, more consciously than not.

Since the other doesn't seem to grasp the meaning of it, Yamato decides to be more direct.

 "I'm lending it to you."

"A rain cape with a King Pudding design."

"A rain cape with a King Pudding design,” He nods, "or do you want to get ill?"

"Oh."

"One of my kids bought me this for Christmas. I hardly ever use it, but treat it well, you're warned."

Yamamura-san finally yields, sighing and laughing, amused, as he opens the cape and studies it. "Won't I look ridiculous?"

"Hm, not more than usual... Come on, here, let me," Yamato says, helping him pass the helmet through the opening, then nods with his hands on his hips, satisfied with the final result.

"Am I as charming as usual?" Yamamura-san winks.

"More like _adorable_ than anything, but I'm sure you'll be a lady-killer on your scooter. A King Pudding that delivers _soba_ to the ones who need it the most. What a hero. "

"If you ever need help, you know who to call," Yamamura-san says, and yeah – as he watches him disappear in the dark night, Yamato is almost certain that this is a line from some trashy drama the guy probably acted in.

Well, this routine is not turning out to be so bad, in the end.

 

 

 

Ending up working on a project with some of the others is not unlikely; rather, it happens often, depending on the type of job, and it's kind of pleasant. If it's about acting, it’s certainly quite the norm. This time, however, the main issue is not the job itself – it's the cast.

Yamato looks both ways as he mentally tells himself that it must be either a nightmare or a candid camera.

"Yamato-kun, what's with that face? Are you tired?"

"Maybe he's just pissed off. You should stop making assumptions like that. "

"What would that mean?"

“It means that I don't blame him, nor would I want to smile if I was sitting next to you."

"Haha, and yet it seems you are smiling right now."

"In fact, I'm not sitting next to you."

"Hey, you two, stop it. You are both adults, right? "

"You shouldn’t say these things while holding a cake plate. You always eat only the strawberries on the top, huh. Such a _gourmet_. "

"What's the problem? There was a buffet, okay? "

"Oh, that’s cute. Our dear Haruka always does that, too. But then he also eats the cake."

"Rather, Nikaido, you really have a terrible face. Do you want coffee?"

Yamato wonders what he’s done wrong to end up in this situation while he stares at the cover of the script in his hands, reading and re-reading the names.

Main cast: Yuki, Yaotome Gaku, Minami Natsume, Nikaido Yamato.

"No. I want to die."

 

 

 

"So... A tragic love story?"

"Not exactly."

Yamato slightly lowers the script, peering from behind the pages as he listens to the exchange with a certain curiosity.

"I’d say that, more than a love story, it can be defined as a story of personal growth."

He hears Minami repeat those last words in a whisper. They are all gathered around the table to take stock of the situation as regards the drama.

"Yes, you see...The plot focuses mainly on your characters. We thought of it as a few episodes, taking place within a week. In short, the story is about the four of you meeting up at the funeral of the younger sister of _Mamoru_ , played by Yamato-kun. Then we have _Hitoshi-san_ …" He nods towards Gaku, “…who’s their friend and the girl's boyfriend. _Satoru_ , that is Yuki-san, is Hitoshi and the girl’s co-worker…" He carries on while flipping through the script.

"…and, finally, we have _Sho_ , a childhood friend of the two brothers who went to study abroad." Minami nods softly.

 "This story is... how should I say it...?"

"Haha, you find it sad and depressing, huh? I suppose it's normal, but this is the challenge I’d like to propose to you – to try and get something good out of this whole situation."

They all listen quietly as the director clears his throat. "It's a terrible situation and there are a lot of unbecoming feelings at stake, but despite that I want to believe that everyone can start over again and have a happy ending."

"A… happy ending…?"

Minami doesn't look convinced: he flips through the script with an air of perplexity, a blatant frown on his face as he mumbles under his breath.

Yuki's face, instead, as Yamato sees it, displays a subtle interest, as if he’s curious to see where the story will end up. It doesn’t even surprise him, honestly, because Yuki has always been like that.

"The script has already been written this way, obviously, but I’d still like you to make the characters your own… Any suggestion for changes is always welcome. Getting a happy ending, with these premises... it really feels like a challenge. But I know I can expect great things from all of you."

As Yamato thumbs through the script, sinking into the chair and absently listening to them, he thinks he doesn't like it – the girl doesn't even have a name, or a face. He has nothing on her. All that he knows is that he lost her and won't ever get her back.

Yamato doesn't like this.

"The heroine... doesn't have a name," he finally mutters, slowly tilting his head to the side.

The director smiles at him gently. Yamato doesn't like it.

"I know. It's because I’d like everyone from the audience to give her the name of what they love the most. What name would you give her, Yamato-kun?"

 

 

 

On the third Friday following the raincoat episode, Yamamura comes to his house, at the usual time, bringing the usual food; this time, however, he also hands him a bag full of beer cans.

Yamato looks at him, puzzled, but the other speaks ahead of him: "As a thanks, for the other time. The cape was very useful to me, the costumers even complimented me."

_Really, Yaotome – Yamamura-san! –, are you serious?_

"By the way, I dried it and folded it. It's in the bag."

"...thanks." He looks at the content, not sure about what to say. "You didn't have to bother... Anyway, I appreciate it. I could never refuse beers." He laughs, shrugging because the whole situation is somehow hilarious.

"They're your favorites, aren't they?"

"Yes… they are. Thank you."

"Good!" He laughs, satisfied, as he fixes up his helmet. Yamato considers that you wouldn't expect this kind of small tokens from someone who has Yaotome Gaku's temper – _Yamamura-san!, not Yaotome Gaku_.

"I won't waste any more of your time, anyway. Have a good evening. "

"Oh, yes. I'll leave you to your deliveries."

"Hmm, no, actually. I'm done for tonight. For once, I think I'll just relax."

Yamato stares at him for a few seconds, quiet. He clutches the handle of the bag between his fingers and feels the growing impulse to say something that he finds perfectly stupid.

"Do you want—" He hesitates for a moment, as he doesn’t know how to end the sentence without sounding overly pathetic, or as desperate for someone's company as he is. "You… the beers... You brought me seven beers. I don't think I can finish them. Or rather, maybe I could, but..." – _I don't want to do it alone_ – "You are free, right? If you don't have anything in particular to do, I wouldn't mind you joining me. "

He ends the sentence with a tired, but equally resigned, half smile (half grimace?); after all, he is just the guy who delivers _soba_ , not Yaotome Gaku.

The other sighs, taking off his helmet and stepping forward. "I think I can make an exception for a regular customer."

"How kind, thank you," he laughs, placing the food on the table. "Have you already had dinner? Do you want something?"

"Sorry for asking, but doesn't this nullify your takeout order?"

"Look, I'm a good host. What do you take me for?"

"Haha, really?"

Yamato pretends not to hear the sarcasm in his voice, and sighs as he inspects the content of the fridge. "Or, at least, I'm better than it seems. Although I don't really have much at home at the moment... Maybe Mitsu is right when he says that I should stop running only on _ochazuke_. "

"Izumi Mitsuki? Well, he is right."

"Hey, look, when I was living in the dorms, I was very good at making the _bento_ for the youngest members to bring to school!"

Yamamura-san looks at him amusedly as he opens one of the beers, leaning against the shelf behind him. "Oh, it’s really admirable."

"I had also learned how to make a _character bento_."

"Oh, what a really good wife."

"Anyway, a _senpai_ of mine only eats vegetables. And another one apparently only runs on _soba_. So I'm not that much of a lost cause."

Yamato feels slightly satisfied at hearing him cough. When he turns, the expression on his face is totally innocent. "Then, we can split up both the _soba_ and the _ochazuke_. What do you think?" The other tries to pull himself together by wiping the corner of his mouth with his knuckles. "I'm taking it as a yes."

While he is busy preparing dinner, leaving Yamamura-san to the task of setting the table, his phone vibrates – it’s Tsumugi.

 

_"Yamato-san! If it's not a problem, I should come to your house tomorrow in the morning to give you some papers that they  delivered to me, as regards adjustments to the drama screenplay ('_ _∀_ _` *)_

_If you have other plans, just let me know! ( > _ _ω_ _ <)_

_Goodnight and sorry for the trouble!"_

 

He smiles, turning off the screen and making a mental note to answer before he goes to bed. Maybe he’ll tell her once again not to be always so dutiful, because he can definitely afford to change his plans and visit the office himself.

"Oi, what dishes shall we use for dinner?"

When he turns, he finds Yaotome – _Yamamura, Yamamura-san!_ – holding two different sets of dishes in his hands in order to show him. He wriggles his nose and scrunches his eyebrows as if this is a very serious problem – it probably is, considering his sacral respect for _soba_.

"Same thing to me. Which one do you like best?" He says this in a tender voice; somehow, indeed, it feels like something in his chest is melting as he watches the guy study thoroughly the two different sets.

"I prefer the striped one, then."

As he helps him fixing the last things, and they swear in unison at the rice water coming out of the pot, Yamato feels a faint sense of _deja-vu_ hovering over his shoulders like a light veil. It reminds him of evenings spent bickering in a certain kitchen, setting the table for seven people; of the sound of laughter; and of warm smiles that sometimes feels only like a dream. Time has passed too fast and he misses it, all of that – _he misses it._

"Ah, didn't I say I could take care of the table? You just have to worry about the dinner, okay?" Yamamura-san sighs, drying the water that has poured on the stove before the rice starch froth starts to get sticky. When Yamato doesn't answer, he turns around, probably to scold him further, but he suddenly stops in his tracks and grows quiet.

For a moment, Yamato wonders, terrified, if he is crying by any chance. His face, however, seems to be dry and this reassures him.

"Here, take it." The other gently taps Yamato’s forehead with a can of beer. The only reaction Yamato manages is wriggling his nose and looking at him in confusion.

"You told me it's better to drink together, didn't you?"

"...ah, you're right."

As silly as it is, he's happy that Yaotome has remembered his favorite beer.

 

 

 

The ringing of the doorbell echoes in his flat so violently that he couldn’t imagine it possible. He's unsure of whether it's because it comes as sudden – and gives him a heart attack – or because it feels like his head’s literally exploding.

The only thing that Yamato knows for sure is that he wants that noise to stop so he can return to die in peace.

When he puts a foot off the couch, his knees give out and he falls face to the ground, crushing some empty cans with his feet – and what he guesses it’s Yaotome's stomach with his elbow, judging from the pained moan the other lets out as he turns on a side.

As soon as he regains balance – or whatever little is left over – he heads towards the entrance, trudging. He opens the door with a bang.

"What the hell—"

Then he stops. _Oh_.

"...Yamato-san?"

A bewildered Tsumugi stares at him from the doorway. She seems confused and probably worried judging by her expression, and looks unsure about what to ask first.

"Yamato-san… are you okay?"

"Manager…? What are you doing here?"

"The message about the script... didn't you get it?"

His mind stay blank for a few seconds, then Yamato realizes.

"Oh, fuck—"

"I... did I come at a bad time, maybe?" She bursts, even more shaken than he is. "You are not sick, are you? Or maybe you had burglars breaking into your house–?!"

She speaks with such a serious expression and tone that, knowing her, she is surely rummaging into her bag looking for a first aid kit, as well as a taser. Damn, their manager is really a scary woman.

"N-No, not really—", he tries to answer as well as recall what happened the night before. Yaotome – _no, Yamamura, Yamamura-san_ – stopped at his house for dinner, right? And he was the one who invited him to drink with him. But what then…?

The more he thinks about it, the more Yamato gets the feeling that his memories become less and less clear. Yet his head is full of buzzing images of them crying loudly as they watch one of Yuki’s drama, of Yaotome imitating Kokona while standing on the _kotatsu_.

Come to think about it, Yamato’s not sure he wants to remember.

Obviously, Yaotome – _Yamamura_ , damn it! _Yamamura_ – emerges from the hallway right in that moment.

"What the fuck is happening— Nikaido, what time is it...?"

Now that he is a little more sober and conscious, Yamato realizes how they must look. The other’s _yukata_ is crooked, partly open, and he has messy hair, bare feet and an idiotic expression on his face.

Now Yamato’s even more sure that he does _not_ want to remember.

If an _ikemen_ like him is in such a sorry state (and isn't it unfair to always look so beautiful, even early in the morning, after a hangover?), Yamato doesn't really want to see his own reflection in the mirror.

He turns around abruptly towards the girl as he tries to find something to say, anything that could make them look less like losers, but he stops when he notices her embarrassed expression.

Tsumugi, red to the ears and wide-eyed, glances up quickly from one to another. She's stuttering so much that he is afraid she will suffer from oxygen deprivation.

"S-Sorry for the interruption—!" She finally says, and _no_ , he did not expect _this_. "If only I had known—! I—I'm sorry—! I won't tell anyone, I swear—! "

He’d like to say something like ‘ _It's not true!_ _Whatever you are thinking, don't—!’_ , but he ends up having the script slapped in his face and all he can do is keeping quiet and rubbing his nose as he watches her run away.

_Damn, their manager is really a scary woman._

Yamamura-san looks at his back in shock, evidently more confused than Yamato is about the whole situation. "What the hell just happened?"

"Ah... No, nothing. Don't worry. I'll talk to her and clear this situation."

Yamamura-san keeps quiet for a few moments, looking a little lost.

"How is she?"

"Hm?"

"I mean... She's always so busy and works so hard... I wanted to know if she is happy."

Despite everything, Yamato can't really be angry at such a kind person, even if he tried to get his hands on his family – his little kids, ah, but now they're not little anymore, right? They are all flying out of the nest.

"She is,” he says, shrugging. "She has become a young woman with her own life." He stops, then laughs. "What, are you interested in her?"

The other tries to answer, but stops in his tracks with a conflicted expression on his face.

"Anyway you don't have many chances, you know. I think she just got persuaded that the two of us are in a relationship."

"…what?"

"You and I,  or... Yaotome Gaku and I? I'm not sure about this. It's easy to mix up you guys."

"What—!?"

Yamato knows he should reassure him, tell him he will clear up everything, but seeing the man so flustered is quite an amusing sight.

"Why would she ever think that—it's not like you... or I..." He gasps hysterically, and then he freezes abruptly.

"Wait... Do you like Yaotome Gaku, perhaps…?"

"Haha, I'm sorry, but he's not really my type."

"Oh. Okay."

"And neither are you, Yamamura-san. Don't worry."

Yamato decides to go back to the kitchen to throw away the trash and wash the dirty tableware. The other stays quiet about ten minutes at least before speaking up again.

"Hey, just out of curiosity, but why isn’t Yaotome Gaku your type?"

"Hm?"

"I mean, isn't he at the top of the list of the _Most Desired Embraces_? What's wrong with him?"

"It’s because he's a big, scary carnivore. _Oniisan_ , on the contrary, is only a placid, weak herbivore.”

 

 

 

_"So, you really did find some time to come back."_

_Sho tightens the hand around the strap of his bag before moving a few steps forward, narrowing his eyes in the blinding light of the sunset._

_"Did you expect otherwise?"_

_"To be honest, I never know what to expect from you. It's been five years since we last heard of you, I'm sorry if I’ve got some complaints."_

_"... Touché. I can't blame you, but the fact I decided to leave home doesn't mean I left you guys."_

_"No, it’s not that. The reason why I think you abandoned us is that you severed all ties with us." Mamoru shrugs, showing a sad smile. "But she was different. She always believed you would come back."_

_As his words are followed by silence, the boy sighs. "But we are not here to talk about this... We have gathered to honor her memory and I don't want to sully this moment."_

_"…I see."_

_"I know your parents kicked you out of your house... Do you have a place to stay?"_

_"I've rented a room at an inn in the area. You don't have to worry."_

_The brother nods at the answer and lets the other surpass him._

_"Anyway, I would have done everything I could to come back.” Sho turns towards him. The sun behind his back is so bright that Mamoru has to squint._

_"This is our last goodbye, after all."_

 

 

 

 

"So... Are you telling me that you don't feel one bit of shame for this situation?"

Yamato lets the words flow from his lips like water from a fount, with a placid voice and a relaxed expression.

"She has always trusted you... loved you more than anyone else... If you really loved her back, you should have let her go... You should have... If she, then... now..."

He sighs, tired, and pulls his knees to his chest, pressing his forehead on them, hard.

The more he reads the lines, the less he knows what kind of face he should make to play the role. A sad one? An angry one? A wounded one, perhaps? Or maybe a disillusioned one? Maybe, it’s all of them together – it’s the face of someone who feels betrayed by everything in his life, someone who can no longer let go of what has made him happy before nor what hurts him now. It’s the face of someone trying to find the reason why he’s lost his beloved younger sister, whom he had to protect, and whose laughter he won't hear anymore.

"Ah... this sucks."

"Got problems with your role?"

Yamato looks up, squinting due to the light on the set, too bright, and doesn't even try to hide his grimace as he sees Yuki's sly expression popping in front of him.

"Senpai... If you're trying to mess with me, then please don’t—"

"No, no. I am serious, and you look troubled."

"Do I…?"

"You have this grimace on your face, see," he tries to mimic it by pressing forefingers to his eyebrows, scowling, "like that."

" _Senpai_ , please..."

Yuki tilts his head and Yamato ends up sighing, resigned. He scratches his nape nervously with one hand. "I guess it's useless to ask you to stop, right?"

"Is it?"

"Absolutely."

Yamato laughs, resting his cheek against the cold page of the script, squinting slowly as he listens to the faint voices of the staff in the background.

"Yuki-san, what do you think of Satoru?"

"Hm, Satoru…? Let's see... I’d say he’s the kind of person that does his best to not disturb others. He is suffering because he’s lost an important friend, and even more because he sees Hitoshi in pain. He never asks anyone for help, but he is there when others need him."

"He really does look like a good person. He doesn't suit you at all."

"Do you think so?"

Yamato grimaces again as he looks at him, while Yuki asks: "And you? What do you think of Mamoru?"

"I'm… I’m not sure. He wants to look like a good person, but in truth he's just selfish."

He lets his foot dangle from the chair, staring at the tip of his shoe absentmindedly.

"I have the feeling that he should look like someone who is trying to protect others, but in the end he's just desperately trying to protect himself."

"Well, it's a starting point, isn't it?"

"Ah... is it?"

"You can start from there too. Wanting to protect and to be protected, wanting to love and to be loved. It's not that different after all."

 

 

 

Starting up a routine with Yamamura-san is easier than he thought.

It's not anything particularly surprising or exceptional, but only small moments they share – perhaps even seek – and that build up over time, taking root in the soil, to become shared habits.

It's not only about ordering _soba_ every Friday; it's also about sharing a few beers and a meal, drinking together and talking about the mysteries of life. It’s about watching the other as he tries to approach Musashi, puzzled, as if it was a pet – well, Musashi is _his_ pet. Yamato really appreciates the effort.

Part of him thinks that Yaotome is almost cute – _ah, damn it_ , will he ever manage to not mix up the names? – as he sits cross-legged on the floor while hesitantly stretching a hand towards the small vacuum cleaner, almost afraid to get bitten, or to get his fingers sucked away at any moment.

Part of him thinks that there's something strangely intimate and familiar in the way he lets himself relax, almost falling asleep against the back of the couch while he watches Trigger’s  ex-leader.

He misses sharing habits with someone.

"I'm happy you're getting along." Tsumugi's voice shakes him off his thoughts. Yamato can't help but blink in confusion, not sure about what to say.

"...what?"

"You and Gaku-san. For the drama, I mean."

"Oh."

"I was a little worried, you know. I thought you would end up fighting like cats and dogs."

Leaning with his elbow against the car's window, he glances at her calmly, despite knowing that she’s too busy driving and can’t see his expression at the moment.

"It's tiring enough to keep Natsume and Yuki-san from fighting, trust me."

"Haha, maybe you're right... But it makes me happy, anyway."

Her expression melts into a gentle smile, her gaze fixed on the road, and he can't help but reciprocate the gesture, resigned to the fact that Idolish7, including her, has always been and always will be his biggest weakness.

"Speaking of this—" Her eyes suddenly light up as she abruptly hits the brakes at a red light and then turns to him, trying in vain to hide her enthusiasm.

Yamato looks at her, exhausted, running a hand through his hair. "It was _not_ him that time at my house, manager. I already told you."

"Eh?! So it really was Yamamura-san?!"

"Yes... but it's not like you think, anyway. Please stop smiling like that."

"Of course, of course, I understand," she rambles on, strangely euphoric. Yamato has the feeling that she doesn’t understand at all.

"Tsumugi-san, don't you know that selling _soba_ is a noble art? Surely he doesn't have time for this kind of things."

In spite of this, she keeps humming softly _Koi no Kakera_ all the way, drumming her fingers on the wheel along with the rhythm, the engagement ring on her finger shining in the dim light.

 

 

 

The rain takes them by surprise in the late morning during one day of outdoor shooting.

They don't know how long it will last, so the director decides to suspend shooting for a few hours and leave the cast free, hoping the weather will get better.

Yamato goes to buy something hot to drink at the vending machines, feeling numb from head to toe, when he notices Gaku sitting not far from him, on the steps under a canopy, watching the rain.

He is not sure why he ends up buying a drink for him as well.

"Here," he murmurs, pressing the hot can against Gaku’s cheek, surprising him from behind.

"N-Nikaido—What the hell—!"

"Haha, sorry, did I scare you?"

Yamato sees him ready to retort, angered, but then the man sighs and shrugs, accepting the drink as he thanks him softly.

They stay silent for a few seconds before he decides to sit next to Gaku – not really close, more like on the same step, here. A few meters away. It would be embarrassing, otherwise, even if Yamamura-san and him sat together on one narrow sofa, only a short distance away. But he is not Yamamura-san, now.

Ah, it's strangely frustrating.

"Do you think we can finish shooting within the day?"

"Hmm... I don't know, it doesn't look like it will stop raining so soon."

"Heh, I know."

Silence falls again, but it’s not unpleasant. The rain falls so hard that it's difficult to even hear each other’s voices at this distance – Yamato wonders if maybe he shouldn't sit a little closer.

"Ah, Hitoshi... He's really unlucky."

"Oi, what did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Gaku looks at him, annoyed, and he barely manages to keep himself from laughing. "Not only did he lose the woman he loved, but even today that we had to film his scenes, it's raining."

Yaotome doesn't answer. Maybe Yamato can see him clutching the can in his hands, but he pretends he doesn't notice, intent as he is to blow on his drink, still too hot for him.

"I… I thought it would have hurt you."

"What?"

"This topic... right now."

He knows he doesn't need to clarify what he is referring to, nor is he sure he’d be able to do it.

"Don't be stupid… I'm a mature man now."

"Haha, really?"

"Nikaido, are you trying to fight me?!" Gaku says, exasperated, suddenly turning towards him.

Yamato ponders it for a moment as he focuses on the way the waterdrops hit the ground, exploding into a multitude of many tiny liquid crystals.

"No… I was just worried," he finally admits and, for once, he is completely sincere.

At Gaku's lack of response, Yamato ends up turning towards him, puzzled, only to find the other staring at him with an expression on his face he wouldn't really know how to place. His eyes are wide and he looks incredulous, his nose crinkled and his lips tightly closed. He looks like a real idiot.

"Ah... Ah.” Gaku stares at him, then turns slowly, covering his face with one hand. If it weren't for the lack of light, given the leaden sky, he’d swear Yaotome Gaku just blushed. Yamato’s not sure why, but this makes his cheeks go on fire, too, and he's suddenly not so cold despite November's harsh weather.

He then decides to focus on his tea again, which is still scalding, basically undrinkable for someone with such a sensitive tongue like him.

They both remain silent until the rain stops.

 

 

 

_"I heard you'll take a permit to attend the funeral."_

_"I don't think I have much choice..." Hitoshi wearily tilts his head, rubbing at his temples. "The family wanted to celebrate it in their hometown. Attending is... It’s my duty and the least I can do."_

_Satoru doesn't comment – whether it's out of respect or because he's too absorbed by work, this cannot be said. "The family? Do you mean her older brother? "_

_"Yes... Unfortunately, their parents both died ten years ago, so he was the only relative she had left."_

_"What a bitter fate... It’s really an unlucky family."_

_The noise of fingers typing on the keyboard fills the office. Although the closing time has long passed already, the paperwork on Hitoshi's table doesn't seem to diminish._

_"You don't have to force yourself so much. I can take care of it on my own..."_

_"It's not necessary. Your offer to come with me is good enough for me… I'm not going to let you take all these responsibilities on your shoulders, Satoru."_

_For a moment, the typing noise stops. Satoru's voice is just a whisper._

_"This is the least_ I _can do. After all, I couldn't do anything for either of you."_

 

 

 

The next time Yamamura-san brings him _soba_ , something strange happens.

As usual, he gives him the food, Yamato pays for it and they chat a little at the door.

But then Yamamura-san – basically, though… he’s still Yaotome, isn't he? – smiles and thanks him kindly, and Yamato’s not sure why.

When the other leaves, he can feel his stomach churning. It doesn't stop, not even five, ten, twenty minutes later.

It doesn't hurt, but it's strange and he's no longer sure of being hungry. Yamato wonders if by any chance he isn't getting some kind of flu.

 

 

 

Despite work schedule and personal matters, each one of them tries to find time to spend together whenever they can. It's reassuring knowing that, despite the time that’s passed and the fact that they now have their own lives, Idolish7 are still so important, that they’re a sort of a safe place.

Yamato puts down his cup of coffee and leans with his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands as he watches Mitsuki and Sougo talk animatedly, both sitting on the bench in front of him.

"Honestly, this cannot go on. I have to teach him how to iron."

"Sougo... You say so, but it seems to me that you are the one who usually do chores for him."

"Of course I do! Every time his clothes look even more wrinkled than before!"

"Sou has always had the soul of a housewife."

"Yamato-san!"

"That's so true."

"M-Mitsuki-san—!"

Mitsuki and him laugh, both leaning forward to poke at the other's cheeks with affection. Sougo clears his throat, starts sipping his hot chocolate, expressly spiced with chili, then asks them to stop, _please._

"Ah, but you shouldn’t be so pedantic, you know. Tama messaged me at unreasonable hours to ask me for help because you were plastered to the window of his porch, asking him if he had washed the dishes."

"I-It only happened twice! Sometimes Tamaki-kun doesn't wash dishes for days!"

"Heh... being neighbors must be fun," Mitsuki says, slyly, "It's nice to see that Mezzo” are as close as ever."

Sogo doesn't answer as he tries to keep calm by looking out of the cafe's window, focused on the multitude of people passing by in scarves and coats, busy in the race for the purchase of Christmas gifts.

"Tamaki-kun is much more mature than he seems... I think it's reassuring, in its own way, to live close to each other.”

Yamato melts into a smile and notices Mitsuki doing the same.

"Ah, I envy you so much! Iori, on the contrary, leaped out of the nest... I mean, as a big brother I'm very proud, but I miss the times when we lived together."

"Mitsu, you're so soft-hearted."

"Well, I'm sorry for being nostalgic," Mitsuki says, and kicks him under the table. "Anyway, Yamato-san, we all know that you aren't very different."

"Well, I miss having someone who tidies up my room."

The other kicks him another time and, _ah_ , this one hurts – really worthy of the man who gained sixth place in the Most Desired Embrace’s current ranking.

"Regarding this, do you have any plans during winter holidays?" Sougo interrupts, leaning forward. "It would be nice to find a free day and reunite with everyone… We could even meet with the members of other groups, if it isn’t too much trouble for them."

"Yeah...I t's been long since the last time we’ve met properly."

"Oh, we could make a group chat to organize and have dinner together!"

"Zool, too?"

"Yes, Sou, them too."

As Yamato blows on the cup, distractedly listening to them talk and agree on things, he loses himself in staring at the Christmas decorations outside and tries to remember when was the last time they celebrated Christmas all together. He could swear it was at least three years before.

"You’ll invite Yaotome-san, right?"

He winces at Mitsuki's sudden question, risking to spill the coffee. He stares at them.

"W-What...?"

"I mean, for... dinner? You two are working together lately, aren’t you? You're the one who has more opportunities to talk with him, Yuki-san and Natsume."

"Ah… yes, that's right."

They look at him, perplexed, and Yamato has no idea why he feels guilty since he has no real reasons, to begin with. It must be their manager's fault, for getting weird ideas and influencing him too, and Yaotome's fault, who has idiotic reactions to silly actions.

"We need to buy alcohol anyway, don't we?"

"What kind of question is this? Obviously we do."

 

 

 

_Incense falls on the floor, breaking into many small pieces and scattering in the air like ashes, sacral perfumes they can no longer use to honor the memory of any dead._

_Hitoshi holds his side, collapsing on the tatami, and Mamoru is onto him in a moment._

_"Shut up—I don't want to listen to your bullshit!" He jerks him up by the collar, screaming. "If you had really loved her, if you had really cared about her, you wouldn't have let her make that choice—! If my sister is dead, it's only your fault! "_

_Hitoshi catches his breath and overthrows the other, pushing him back, making sure to block his hands._

_"You do nothing but criticize me, but—Aren't you the one who feels the most guilty here? Aren't you trying to push on me all the responsibility so that you can ignore your own wrongs?! In the end you are no better than me, but you don't want to admit it because, unlike me, you know that you're completely alone—!"_

_They both fall silent. Hitoshi lets go of his wrists, staring down at him. He doesn’t comment on the multitude of tears that now streams down Mamoru’s face. He knows there's no need to._

_"After all, you haven't protected anyone but yourself."_

 

 

 

"Oh, so you arrived! Have you brought alcohol? Good, good, come in! Tsunashi-san, I knew I could count on you."

"Ah, do you intend to go wild tonight?"

"Tenn, come on! Drinking once in a while is not a problem, isn't it?"

"Once in a while..."

Tenn takes off his coat with a resigned expression, as if he’s judging them. And he is probably right about it.

Tsumugi immediately rushes to welcome them, taking the shopping bags from them as she thanks them for the disturb of bringing some food. Meanwhile, Iori tries to keep Tamaki from stealing the bags from their manager's hands.

"Yaotome-san is not with you…?"

"Ah... Gaku had a photoset to wrap up, but he should be here soon. Our manager went to pick him up."

"I see! Anesagi-san is really a reliable person!"

Then Tenn looks around, cautious, checking the situation. "Will Zool come too?", he asks, probably looking for Isumi and preparing himself for the worst.

Tsumugi laughs, resigned, "You know how they are. We can't really predict if they will."

Ryu looks at Tenn fondly, then pats his head. "Don’t worry! I'm sure they'll come!" Christmas has to be spent with family and friends, after all! "

"That's not what I'm worried about..." The ex-center says, irritated and slightly flustered. "Are we even friends, to begin with?"

But then, at the sound of Trigger's voices, Re:vale appear from no one knows where – weren't they helping Banri to fix the decorations? – as ready as always to harass their beloved _kouhai_.

Yamato is not sure if he can take so many emotions at the same time, so he throws himself between Tsumugi and Tamaki and steals the bags with false concern, claiming that he will take care of food and that she doesn't have to worry – ‘ _Enjoy the party, Manager!’_

Naturally Tamaki follows him, happy, like a baby duck trailing behind his mother, while Iori keeps holding him back by the scruff of his neck, as though he’s dealing with a kitten.

As soon as they step into the kitchen, they find Nagi and Riku focused on some sort of dubious ritual, stacking strawberries on a stick.

"What are you doing...?"

Iori speaks before him, thrown off as well, but still not letting go of Tamaki.

"Ah, Iori! Come here, c’mon! Look!"

Riku, enthusiastic, waves his hands as they approach. "We made some little sculptures with fruit!"

"Ah, it’s an _Usamimi_! Rikkun, do you think I can make King Pudding too?!"

"Of course, let's try it now! Iori too!" Riku says, and the both of them take hold of Iori’s hands, dragging him against his will – or maybe not? Ichi seems really happy.

"Riku-san! Tamaki! Stop it—And why is there a Kujo-san's sculpture made with tangerines?!"

Their agency's kitchen is definitely too small for all of this.

"And yours should be...?" Yamato turns his gaze on Nagi's creation, perplexed.

"It's Kokona, isn't it obvious!?"

"Honestly, it’s not…” He comments, looking at the other as he presses his hands on the chest, apparently wounded. "Avoid playing with food, okay?"

"We are not playing, they are small gifts for you all!"

"Ah, speaking of which, Tenten has arrived."

"Tenn-nii?! Is he already here?" Riku says, jumping up, and within a few seconds he's already out of the room.

Despite everything, Riku will never change.

In the meantime, Yamato starts emptying the bags, and arranging the food on dishes with Iori's help – but only after the boy has finished a wonderful apple bunny.

When Tamaki asks him to join in, he doesn't even dare to point out that they no longer have anything to decorate the desserts with.

And it's right when they are busy with such an activity (if Mitsuki sees them, they are dead) that the bell rings. Yamato hears a voice in the distance and is almost certain that Yaotome and Anesagi-san have finally arrived. His theory is then confirmed when, a dozen of minutes later, Trigger's former leader peeks into the kitchen to greet them.

He's as handsome as ever, in its expensive jacket coat, expensive turtleneck sweater and expensive scarf –perhaps even more than usual, if Yamato can allow himself to consider it, but he's not sure if it's because the other just had a photoset, or his mind is playing tricks on him.

"What are you doing?" Gaku asks, clearly amused at watching a group of adults so intent in cutting and assembling fruit.

"Gakkun, Merry Christmas!"

"Yaotome-shi! You arrived just on time!"

Nagi and Tamaki lean towards him at the same time, proud of their work. Gaku cannot help laughing – and it's _cute_ , even like this he's extremely cute, what the heck, Yaotome, what the heck.

"Ah, sculptures? Of fruit? They are... original."

"They are, right !? Even Yama-san made one!"

"Tama, shut up."

"He got so involved, too!"

"Nagi, damn—"

"Oh, really. Can I see it?"

Honestly, Yamato feels the urgent need to bury himself thousand meters underground and never emerge again. And to choke the three of them with a towel.

"A kitten... made with strawberries..."

Despite Gaku’s apparently serious tone, Yamato can clearly see his lip trembling as he unsuccessfully attempts to keep himself from laughing – and he's cute again, he is even as he’s teasing him. Yamato wants to bury his face in his hands and scream.

"It's… adorable."

"Yaotome, if you're trying to be kind to please me, you can already stop."

Gaku collects himself and looks at him, then takes a few steps forward to shorten the distance between them.

"No, really, it's lovely. You did a great job."

He says it sincerely, with a gentle smile on his face. His hand – warm, light – goes to ruffle Yamato’s hair with affection.

No one breathes for a moment – Iori is probably petrified a few steps away, and Yamato is almost sure his heart will eventually explode in his chest.

"It's not fair,  Gakkun! Why didn't you do that to us too?! Why are you playing favorites with Yama-san!?"

Tamaki throws himself between them, shaking Gaku by the arm while Nagi takes the face of his former leader in his hands, agitated.

"Yamato?! Can I do it too?! Iori, can I do it even to you?!"

His eyes are shining and Yamato's not sure how to metabolize the entire situation.

When Mitsuki goes back to the kitchen five minutes later, he finds them  messing up each other's hair, following an unclear order – but it's only when he notices the disaster they have done with fruit that everyone knows it's time to run away.

 

 

 

Yamato never knows what's going on inside Minami's head: behind his kind expression, behind that pretty face, lies the devil himself, and this awareness definitely doesn't encourage personal relationships.

But what Yamato likes about Minami is that he doesn't pretend to be kind, at all. If he can tell you something mean, he will. All the more, if he has reasons to be mean, you won't be able to do anything to prevent being taken down. He can’t even foresee it, that day, on the set.

"Yamato-san, your portrayal of Mamoru is insufferable to watch."

For a few seconds, Yamato just looks into the void, pondering his life choices. Only some minutes after, when he is alone, he dares to let out a weak, indignant complaint.

"That wasn't cute in the least."

 

 

 

Yamato is no longer sure of what to expect from life right now: part of him has no idea what is going on around him, while another seems to struggle desperately to give up and surrender to the flow.

Certain things come to him naturally, almost spontaneously. When, on Friday night, he invites Yamamura – Yaotome...? Yaotome Gaku – to have dinner with him at the end of his shift, it's not the first time it happens, but somehow he finds himself more nervous than he has ever been in months. Part of him really wants to give up trying to understand himself.

They are sitting in the kitchen, facing each other like they have done several times before, sharing a portion of _soba_ and some leftovers found in the fridge. Yamato may indeed have gone shopping for the occasion, but Yaotome doesn't need to know this.

"I heard you’ve been shooting a drama lately."

"Hmm? Ah, yeah."

"I saw the trailer and read the plot. It looks interesting."

"So it seems… True enough."

They stay a few seconds in silence. Then, while Yamato’s playing with noodles in the plate, Yaotome speaks up. "You don't look convinced."

"Haha, don't get me wrong, really. I appreciate the job and both the staff and the cast are excellent, but… I'm not sure I can look the part well."

"Why?"

"I… have the feeling that it's becoming something too personal right now.” He leans his cheek against the palm of his hand. "I don't really like this kind of feeling."

"I see…"

Yaotome falls quiet, keeps eating quietly for what seems like an eternity before speaking up again.

"You know, there was a girl I liked."

Yamato stiffens abruptly, his breath stopping for a moment. He's not sure why, but at the moment he doesn't want to talk about this– it bothers him, like a stone in his gut, something he’d rather not hear out loud, especially not from Yaotome.

"A good girl, really. She’s an extremely admirable person who gives her best at everything she does." Yamato hears the other play with his chopsticks, while he himself is too busy staring at the soup in his own bowl as though it’s the most interesting thing on Earth. "Unfortunately, it didn't go well," Yaotome laughs, "She rejected me... Ah, I don't even know how many times she did."

"She must have been a really patient girl..."

"She absolutely is," Yaotome says, somewhat proud. "You know, she'll get married soon."

Of course he knows. Everyone knows. At Takanashi agency there has been talk of nothing but that for weeks due to the zealous planning of the party and the choice of gifts, especially since it's a marriage between members of the same agency – a small consolation for their poor President, anyway.

"Somehow, I think I can relate to Hitoshi, even though our situation’s not the same. It’s never easy to give up on someone important... But I think I'm lucky, after all."

Yamato looks up at him, perplexed, and the other's soft smile catches him by surprise.

"Unlike Hitoshi, I can watch her achieve her own bliss… even if I'm not the one who can make her happy. In all honesty, though, I'm also really happy for her. "

Yaotome is a really kind and honest person, too much to be his friend, _definitely_ too much to be here sitting at the table of his kitchen and talking to him.

"Plus, the first love doesn't have to be the last one. Somehow, I’m learning it the hard way, lately,” he laughs, scratching his cheek. "I moved on. I wish Hitoshi would do the same."

Yamato lets the meaning of these words sink into him, slowly, like pebbles falling to the bottom of a lake. He has so many things on his mind right now that he's not sure what the most appropriate answer to give in such a situation is, or whether he’d be able to formulate one.

"I...", he starts, clutching the chopsticks nervously. "I’d like to give a happy ending to each one of them, although I don't really believe in happy endings and I’d probably behave terribly if I were in the same situation. But it's… hard. Even though the script is already done and I know what I have to say, I still don't get how I should feel about it."

"It’s only natural that it's hard, isn’t it?"

"Huh?"

"If you think about it, it’s only normal that you wanted to protect her, and it's not just because she was your sister," Gaku tilts his head, resting his cheek on one hand and stretching the other arm along the table to tap Yamato's forehead with the tip of a chopstick. "It's because you needed her. It's because you loved her."

And, with these words, everything suddenly makes sense: it's like an illumination, as though the fog’s dissolving and things starts to show their true form. To Yamato, it is shaped in six people, with different heights and different ages, each of them shining with their own radiance. It's something Yamato has always been aware of, but has never dared to say aloud – the fact that maybe he’s not just worried about them, but rather he’s afraid of being left behind.

"Is everything okay?"

The other's warm voice shakes him out of his thoughts. Yamato finds himself making eye contact with him, feeling lost. "Yes, I… I think it is, now."

Gaku watches him for a few more seconds, then pokes at his forehead again, harder than before, although his expression is gentle and relaxed. Only for that evening, he lets Yamato eat the last _onigiri_ without trying to win it over at rock-paper-scissors.

 

 

 

_"Perhaps, after all, we were all looking for the same thing. Although we never realized it, we are not that different – we are terrible people, but still wishing for happiness in the same way. Do you think we deserve to achieve happiness? Do you think there's a way for us to make each other better? If there's a way, I want to learn how. All this time, after all, I did nothing but live off others’ bliss. I’d like to learn how to be the person who will make me happy someday."_

 

 

 

A few days later, during the shooting, Yuki approaches him with an unreadable expression on his face and eyes Yamato from head to toe.

"Looks like you've overcome your issue. That’s good. "

"Huh, thank you."

"Did you find a name for the little sister, then?"

"I guess so, but I don't think it's important. Regardless of the name, I want her to have a happy ending, to let her know that the others will move forward even without her, although they won’t forget her.”

Yuki smiles and his hair fall on his shoulder in a fluid motion.

"I’d say that’s a good starting point."

"Yeah, I think so too."

 

 

 

_"Are you leaving already?"_

_"Unfortunately, my rental period at the inn is over."_

_"You… You can stay at mine for a few days, if you like."_

_"I don't think it's a good idea… Unfortunately, I have some work to do at home," Sho answers while arranging the last things in his suitcase. "But thank you for your concern. I’m pleased."_

_Mamoru nods, leaning against the wall and looking at the landscape outside the window, "Do you think you'll come home from time to time?"_

_"I don't know... The concept of ‘home’ is blurred for me... My father has disinherited me and I basically don’t know anyone here outside of my family. So, then… What do you mean by using that word? "_

_"I'm… not sure, but I wouldn't mind becoming a place for you to come back to. I don't expect to become the same as a home or a family. It’s good enough for me that you know that I will wait for you, if you want. "_

_"…I see. It sounds comfortable, somehow... I'll think about it."_

_As they head to the station, neither of them speak. On the bus, Mamoru looks out of the window closest to him while Sho dozes off. There is a sort of serenity this early in the morning, and it's chilly – it feels good._

_"And you? What are your plans? Honestly, I don't understand why you are still keeping your family home. I don't think it will help you, not as it is right now."_

_"Well, to be honest, I_ have _thought about leaving."_

_"Oh."_

_"I’d like to move to the city, to clear the air and start off something new, that would be mine alone," Mamoru admits, scratching his cheek. "I was offered a rather good job by someone attending the funeral that... Ah, it doesn't matter. I still don't know if I'll accept, anyway. "_

_"It looks like a great chance, you should try. Even if it’ll take you away from home. "_

_"I'm not sure I still have a home anyway."_

_They stay quiet while the train at the dock whistles, signaling that it's time to say goodbye._

_"Whatever you choose to do, let me know."_

_"I certainly will."_

_Sho gets on the train, the doors close. At the first light of dawn, the separation brings along a sweet, peaceful feeling._

_When he goes back, he takes it easy. He waits for the bus, walks along the way and goes to that_ konbini _near his house to get some breakfast. As soon as he's home, he offers his respects to his sister's altar and then goes to the kitchen. The business card left on the table continues to catch his attention, a rough diamond in a pile of stones._

_In the end, he gives in. He takes the phone, dials the number and nervously waits. Only when a familiar voice replies from the other side, he can breathe again._

_"Hello? Yes, it’s Mamoru."_

_Maybe this time he will really succeed in finding his place in the world._

 

 

 

Love comes in many forms and sometimes we don't even notice it.

Sometimes it's like the placid stream slowly eroding the rock, sometimes it’s like a river flooding and sweeping everything away.

Sometimes, it's an impetuous hug, a multitude of hands touching you, arms holding you. It’s the peaceful, constant heat in your chest, warming you up like a fireplace in winter.

Yamato stops in the middle of the corridor, submerged by Idolish7 clinging onto him, in a sea of tears.

"Yama-san... Yama-san, don't cry—We'll take care of you!"

Tamaki sobs as Nagi nods fervently by his side. "We will never abandon you—!"

"Yeah, so don't cry, okay—?!" Riku finishes the thought, glued to his back. Meanwhile, Mitsuki punches his side lightly, and Sougo and Iori pet his head gently.

"Guys... It was just a drama, I'm fine."

Despite that, he cannot help but bask in their affection a little more, stroking their hair slowly, laughing softly.

"Yes, yes, I love you guys too... Now stop crying, come on. I'll offer you _ramen_ for dinner, I promise."

 

 

 

On Friday night, he finds Gaku sitting in front of his door.

Yamato surely didn't expect it. It’s been a hectic day from beginning to end, since they changed his schedule more than once for technical problems and he ended up getting off work only now. Then, exhausted, he desperately tried to drag himself home using the little strength he’s left.

The man is staring at him with an almost disarming naturalness; he raises his hand in a casual greeting, as if it’s perfectly normal for him to be there, but Yamato is sure something isn't right.

He checks both his wristwatch and the mobile phone. If he still has some working diopter, he would swear to read on both of them a time that far surpasses Yamamura's closing hour.

"It's a quarter to one," he says mildly. "What are you doing here?"

Immediately after, he’s taken by one more fear, and he can't help but scroll the list of the phone calls made, looking for evidence of his apparent idiocy.

"Hey—It's all right! You didn't made an order by mistake, really."

The other reassures him at once, leaning forward and waving his hands as he looks at Yamato with a veiled note of compassion.

"So… why are you here?" Yamato asks, confused. "And how long have you been here…?"

_Were you cold? Are you an idiot?! It's freezing out here! What were you thinking?!_

"It's just... You’ve called every Friday in the last few months. I thought something had happened,” Gaku laughs, scratching the back of his head. "But apparently I was wrong and you only had work. Anyway, did you have dinner?"

"...Are you serious?"

Yamato doesn't really know what to do with him. He’d like to hit the other with the delivery bag just as much as he wants to hold his hands and make sure they are warm enough.

Gaku keeps looking at him, expecting an answer to his totally serious question.

"No… I didn't have dinner."

"Well, then I didn't come here for nothing! Ah, although I think the _soba_ isn't warm anymore by now."

_Really, you…_ "You're an idiot."

"Huh, why?"

Yaotome looks so sincerely puzzled that he doesn't even have the strength to reply. He simply passes over him and heads for the door, searching for the lock in the dark. The other chooses to stand next to him, and Yamato has never been so conscious of their six inches of height difference, or of his warmth.

When he manages to open the door, he gropes around in search of the light switch, too nervous to even notice the decidedly milder temperature of the flat, which Gaku seems to like.

"If you don't have your wallet at hand or the exact change, don't worry about it. This time I’m offering," Gaku says, handing him the classic package, with the addition of few beers. "After all, it was my idea and, to be honest, I would never make a costumer pay for cold _soba_."

Yamato watches him silently as Gaku hands him the food and picks back his bag before wearing his helmet. "Anyway, I'll head off now. It's really late and I don't want to cause you any further problem."

Really, really, what an idiot.

Yamato catches his apron's hem before realizing it; even as he realizes, though, he doesn't really mind.

He can feel the other's eyes on him, but he’s too busy staring at his own fist clenched in his uniform to reciprocate the attention – too busy thinking about how he doesn't want to let go even if his hand is shaking, even if his palms are sweaty and he feels his heart in the throat.

"Don't go."

He hears the beat of his heart echoing in his ears, like a symphony of low notes disorderedly scribbled on a score, fleeing in haste from the hands of their composer.

"I can get you some _ochazuke_ , if you want… It wouldn't trouble me."

Yamato would like to make his words clear, to make sure Gaku understands that he's talking from his heart and that it's not a matter of simple courtesy.

He watches Gaku's hand enter his field of view and gently cover his own – a light, cold touch that sets him on fire. He feels the immediate urge to pull away, but he resists to it when Yaotome's fingers make him lose his grip on the fabric, supporting his palm.

"Okay," he replies, and his tone sounds neutral. "I can stay if that's what you want."

Yamato nods in silence and lets his hand fall back to his side. He doesn't exactly know what else to say, but that's okay.

Yaotome warms up the _soba_ in a pot while Yamato sets the table. He takes out the dishes they usually use, gives Gaku the glass that he knows it’s his favorite, and makes _ochazuke_ with plenty of the ingredients that the other man loves the most.

He is not sure when or how he acquired all this knowledge. It wasn't his intention to learn all of this, but now that he knows everything seems like an extremely precious notion, something that only he knows.

Gaku stays over for the night, because it's too late and too cold, and because it feels like a natural course of events at the end of that evening.

Yamato lends him one of his pajamas, apologizing because it will probably be a little short, maybe slightly tight, but the other doesn't seem to mind.

They squeeze into that single bed, far too small for two adult men, pressed back to back in the dark of the room. Yamato curls up, enjoying the man's warmth where their bodies touch and letting his eyelids close.

"Goodnight, Yaotome."

As he sinks into sleep, amidst the indistinct noises in the background he hears coming from the street, Gaku's voice sounds particularly clear and warm, like a lullaby cradling him gently.

"Goodnight, Nikaido."

 

 

 

The first thing Yamato notices when he wakes up on the next morning is that Gaku's face is close, too close. He can almost feel the man's hair tickling his own forehead, the breath on his face.

Secondly, he realizes that, who knows when, during sleep, the other has stretched an arm over him and clumsily clasped his side.

Thirdly, this shouldn't be normal, for so many reasons he could make a list a mile long, maybe long enough to be used as a rope, so that he could escape by climbing down the window.

But what strikes him the most, like a cold shower, is that he could even want all of this, which is the most terrifying thing to realize.

He sits up with a bolt, his heart beating furiously in his chest and his body temperature sinking – probably in preparation for an imminent death.

He watches the other grumbling in sleep with such a lovely grimace – _no_ , this is not the right moment to get distracted. Instead, all he has to do is sneaking out of the room, locking himself in the bathroom and trying to calm himself down, because if Yaotome has no idea about what's going on, then it's fine, right? As long as he’s sleeping, there's no problem— as long as he's sleeping, there's no—

The pain he feels at the impact of his forehead with the floor is unspeakable; it really hurts like hell.

"...are you okay?"

The pain, however, can’t compare to the shame that comes later. Perhaps it’d have been better to die like that, hitting the floor, instead of getting stuck in the middle of trying to climb over the body of a sleeping Yaotome.

Yamato doesn't answer, but instead hopes that the other will surrender to the evidence of his death, that he will leave him alone and go back to deliver _soba_ for the safety of humanity.

"Hey, for real, are you okay?"

He feels Gaku's arms pulling him up by the bust, dragging him back onto the bed. In all honesty, Yamato hopes it's just a nightmare.

"You know, for being such a gifted actor you really suck at pretending right now."

This finally makes him open one eye, irritated, because _whoa, that is definitely not nice_.

"I'm dead, leave me alone."

"If you had to go to the bathroom, you could have just woke me up, you know?"

"Okay, then let me pass."

Gaku remains silent, not particularly impressed as he studies his expression. Yamato has no idea how he looks at the moment; considering the warmth he feels on his cheeks and the blatant grimace stiffening his facial features, though, he imagines there’s nothing gratifying about it.

"Maybe we should talk, don't you think?"

"Talk about what…" It's not even a question. He doesn't really want to know.

"Well, maybe about this?!" Gaku says as he spreads his arms as if to indicate all that absurd situation.

"I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Are you really that mad about having my arm around your side?!" Gaku sounds incredulous and vaguely offended. "Even though you are the one that curled up against my chest during the night!!"

Ah, okay. Okay. This isn't a nightmare, but Hell itself and this conversation is apparently a divine punishment assigned to him by Tamaki for all the times he has stolen a King Pudding.

"I haven't—please—stop it..." Yamato finally mumbles in resignation as he sinks his burning face in his hands, hoping to disappear.

They both quiet down; then,, after a seemingly endless silence, Gaku sighs, maybe pulling his hair back the way he always does when he's stressed – which is not a terrible thing in itself, not at all, since Yamato loves when he does that.

"Listen, but are you _really_ sure you don't like me?! I mean, it's not like I would judge you!"

"Yamamura-san, please don't be so bold! My heart cannot stand it!"

Trigger's former leader lowers his hands abruptly, with such an exasperation that Yamato wonders if he's not going to tear apart his face by any chance.

"I'm Yaotome Gaku!"

_Oh, God_. If it wasn't deadly embarrassing, it would be almost funny, but at the moment he's not sure which one of them is the most pathetic one.

Finally, Yamato gives in and lowers his own hands slightly, uncovering his eyes the bare minimum to spy the other's expression: Gaku is red to the tip of his ears, his face contracted in a decidedly frustrated frown.

"Are you really Yaotome Gaku? The original one? Are you _handsome_ enough?"

"You already knew it, so stop playing the fool just because now it's convenient for you, damn it."

"Then you stop using your position as the Most Desired to impose yourself on others!"

"I'm not doing that anyway!!"

"Oh, really? Yaotome ‘ _It’s not like I would judge you if you liked me’_ Gaku?"

"It wasn't what—what I meant was—Ah, damn it!" With this last outburst, Gaku dives down and presses his face into the mattress, exhausted.

During the silence that follows, Yamato takes the opportunity fall onto his side too, by now resigned to the fact that he can neither escape nor have a meaningful conversation.

Gaku turns his face, so that they are face to face, only a few centimeters apart.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I did something that made you feel uncomfortable... Maybe you weren't even aware of what you were doing... Ah, damn it... I really messed up.” He rubs his forehead nervously, trying hard to find the right words.

"It's just that I thought... Yeah, well, I thought you liked me. After all, I really thought that... Ah, but maybe I misinterpreted the signs. And despite all this, I still think I like you… Damn it, though! Is it really just me imagining it all or—hey, why are you hiding your face now?! "

Ah, this is a real nightmare. Not even sinking into Hell would be enough to escape from such a situation.

Yamato feels Gaku's hands pulling at him, trying to make him turn towards him, and he tries his best to resist to the point of crumpling the sheets as he clings to them as tightly as he can. In the end, though, he surrenders and ends up lying on his back with Gaku sitting on his stomach.

They exchange grimaces for several seconds, verging on the level of maturity of a couple of kindergarteners.

"Yaotome, don't say things that could be easily misunderstood..."

"I think I like you, what's there to misunderstand?"

Then Yaotome tilts his head in a way that make his locks slide on his cheek. It’s unfair how, seen from below, he is even more beautiful. Yamato would like to touch his hair – to see if they are as soft as they look like – so much that he could die.

"Is it really such a terrible idea?"

And, really, how can you deny him anything if he looks at you like that?

"Look… I'm not a cute girl."

"I know," he replies. "Although I do think you're cute, in your own way."

"Are you serious…?" Yamato asks, exasperated, finally managing to free his hands from the grasp and pressing them to his face again. "No, no, don't answer. You could say something I wouldn’t be able to bear."

"Okay... okay." He hears him muttering under his breath before moving and falling back beside him. It takes a few more seconds before he speaks: "Can I kiss you?"

He opens his eyes wide and they end up staring at each other quietly, breath on hold and hearts beating loudly, just before they lean forward in agreement.

It's only a short touch of lips, so delicate to be almost imperceptible – yet it's enough to set his chest on fire and, _ah_ , Yamato is sure he'll die of self-combustion at the threshold of thirty years, for a middle school kids-like kiss.

They separate, red to the ears, and neither of them seems to be able to formulate a coherent thought, seen how they both end up covering their faces in shame.

"It was... pleasant," Gaku mumbles after clearing his throat. "Softer than I expected."

"Yaotome, please, shut up."

"Uhm… I'm sorry." Despite apologizing, though, Yamato feels him reaching out to his hand, fingers brushing his own and timidly intertwining with them. Now more than ever, seeing him like that, he cannot help but wonder who gave this man the top-place of that ranking.

"Nikaido, I think I like you."

"Yes, you've already said that."

"I know, but I wanted to make sure you got it."

"You kissed me, damn it, what should I think?"

"Right…" Gaku says. "Regarding this, maybe I did things in the wrong order. I should have asked you out before doing that."

Right now Yamato is not even sure whether he's joking or being serious, but he's too tired to think about it, or to argue with him. "Okay, if you want we can go out together."

Yaotome's hand tightens around his and it's pleasant, so strangely pleasant that he wants to scream.

"Okay, perfect," He pursues his lips. "Can I... kiss you again?"

And who’s he to refuse? He closes his eyes and leans in, unnerved, but the phone rings right at that moment and they end head-butting due to the scare. Yamato finds himself lying back on the back, massaging his forehead while listening to Anesagi's angry voice lecturing Gaku about something.

In all honesty, Yamato can't even find it in himself to be annoyed about this. He half-closes his eyes and indulges in a relaxed sigh, thinking that this is not so bad, after all.

Gaku's hand is sweaty. He can feel the other's fast pulse through his wrist and see the tip of his ears, bright red. It's not so bad, for something that looks like something straight out of a romcom. Strangely enough, he could even end up appreciating all of this.

Yamato wouldn't mind if these become a long series of shared habits, too.

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler bonus: and later they kissed again, and again and again and aga


End file.
